


everytime i close my eyes

by mustardbastard



Series: royed week 2019 [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Dreamsharing, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 11:04:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20308435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustardbastard/pseuds/mustardbastard
Summary: Even on the other side of the Gate, Ed can't escape his dreams.written for day 5 of royed week 2019, prompt: "wait for me"companion piece to cold sheets (cold bones)





	everytime i close my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from lana del ray's dark paradise aka CoS Angst anthem  
this is jen's fault once again, thanks child

Even on the other side of the Gate, Ed can't escape his dreams. 

Before, in his world, in Amestris, Ed was haunted by all the mistakes he's made, by his failures and his sins carved into flesh and bone. Nina, Hughes, Al, _ mom. _ In this world however―this sickening copycat that feels more like a dream than reality, more of a dream when he’s awake than he sleeps―he's dogged by everything he doesn't know, by all―by _ who _ he's left behind. Al, Winry, Granny, _ Al, _ and―Roy. 

He dreams of his brother, most nights. How can he not, when Al is his very reason for breathing and he doesn't even know if he's_ alive. _ Being around this world's version of his brother―like if someone took his Al and traced his features, his essence, _stretched_ and distorted them, swapping out bronze for a blond so pale it's almost white and hazel for sky blue―oh god, what would― _ does, _ because Ed refuses to believe he failed―Al look like now?―day in and day out doesn't help his plight. The dreams are always worse, when he sees the parallel for someone he once knew. But Ed is so weak and so lonely and he _ misses Al. _

That's why he's not surprised that tonight, he's dreaming of Roy. 

Ed had been visiting a bookstore earlier in the day―ironically yet so fittingly owned by Germany's version of Sheska―gathering materials for his research, when he had seen him. 

_ He _ had been standing at the end of the aisle that Ed was in, browsing the shelves with a gentle concentration that Ed had never known. Ed had felt himself go white―whiter than the snow he would come to know that night―and the name had tumbled unbidden from his lips. 

_ "Roy?" _

The man had looked up at the sound of Ed's voice and Ed faltered when their eyes met, because even at that distance, he could tell that his eyes were the exact same shade of stormcloud blue as his Roy's. 

After that... Ed had stammered out an excuse and fled the shop, barely taking the time to shout an apology at Scieszka as he went. 

Now, he's tangled up in his sheets in the flat he shares with Alfons, making fitful attempts at sleeping. 

Ed wouldn't have realized he's dreaming, because this feels more real than the years he's spent so far in Germany, were it not for the fact that it's so _cold,_ cold enough to make his ports ache in a way they haven’t since crossing worlds, and summer nights in Munich are hot and sticky. He stands at the edge of a bed, in a cabin with wooden walls he doesn't recognize, the dark preventing him from discerning any distinguishing details. He's not left in the dark for long; the sun slowly creeps in through the windows, telling Ed it must be early in the morning. 

When it's light enough to be able to make out the figure on the bed, Ed inhales sharply. The face causes a pang in his chest, is a suckerpunch to the gut. There’s a reason Ed tries to not let himself think or be reminded of him. But carefully crawling into bed with him is the closest Ed's felt to whole―to being _ home― _in a long time. 

Ed curls in close to him, drinking in the sight, pouring over every inch, every detail, every little scar and crease and dip Ed can see. It's not unlike a dying man's last attempt to memorize the face of his lover. 

His hair is longer than Ed remembers, inky black locks falling over his face where they didn’t before. 

But his eyes are the same as in Ed's memories. 

His _ eye _ is the same, Ed should say. _ What the fuck happened, _ Ed wants to ask but doesn't. Not when he's staring at Ed so serenely, with the intensity of the most devout priest desperately praying at the altar of his god. As if Ed is something to be worshipped. Not when this isn't real anyway and the answer doesn't matter.

"You bastard," Ed whispers, too afraid to be any louder in fear of speaking shattering the illusion like glass. 

When Roy closes his eye, reaching out to touch Ed's hair, Ed doesn't know if he what chokes on is a sob or laugh.

If Al is the missing hole in his heart, the ache he can't be rid of, then Roy is the phantom limb pain that plagues him when it rains. Always there, but hidden, waiting for the right moment to strike.

And the way Roy is staring at Ed just cuts the knife deeper, his smile the blade. 

"Of course my hair is the first thing you touch," Ed says quietly. He gets a hum in response, and it's so _ typical _ of him that Ed almost lets himself believe that this is real. That he's really here, finally home with no miles or years separating them. 

But the biting cold from the surrounding snow serves to remind Ed of the truth and he's not foolish enough to believe that he's lucky enough for this to last. 

Ed hesitantly reaches his hand out, brushing the midnight dark hair out of Roy's face. The patch of scars Roy must have been trying to hide is obscured no longer. It looks like it hurt. He wonders if it still does. He lightly trails his fingers over the raised skin, tracing the network of jagged pink. It's with a sick sort of humour that Ed thinks that they somewhat match now. And it's with a hollow ache that Ed wonders why. _Why?_

"I've asked a lot from you over the years," Ed murmurs, "but let me be selfish one more time. Wait for me. Keep Al safe and wait for me, Roy. I promise I'm working on a way home."

The cold continues to creep closer and Ed knows his time is up. 

Ed closes his eyes, tearing his gaze from Roy's face, the chill sinking into his bones with finality. When he opens them again, it's to the ceiling of his bedroom in Munich. 

He sighs, stretching his arm up and spreading his fingers as if he could grasp the stars. Like maybe the answer to finding his way home lies in the sky. It had felt so real. But it was only a dream, a bitter reminder of what he has to lose if he can’t get back. His hand clenches into a fist, grabbing nothing but air.

_ I’ll find a way home, I swear. No matter the cost. _

Tears trickle unacknowledged out of Ed’s left eye as he falls back asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments are always welcomed!! ;u;
> 
> hope y'all enjoyed! <3
> 
> catch me on tumblr at mvstardbastard  
until next time~


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